


In My Life

by Bookmark



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel is already dead, Corny, F/M, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 08:31:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11204280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bookmark/pseuds/Bookmark
Summary: Castiel is dead. Again. But instead of instantaneous revival, this time the angel finds himself in the heretofore unknown angelic afterlife. When he is reunited with an old friend, the two will journey along Castiel’s memories, a road created by his Father, to attain a place in eternal paradise. But can Castiel accept his own past? And will he be able to obtain what is waiting for him at the end of the path?





	In My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Are you a Cas girl? Do you find yourself eternally frustrated with the way the narrative heaps more and more trauma on Castiel without ever resolving or even addressing it in a meaningful way? Do you want a fic that feels like nine seasons worth of repressed emotions boiling over? Also, do you have a deep seated resentment for fics that forget Anna? Then look no further.
> 
> Castiel was and is my favorite character on Supernatural, so much so that I found myself repeatedly disappointed with the way Castiel tacked on more and more suffering with very little arc resolution, and absolutely no mention of the emotional toll on him. So I wrote this fic to kind of let Castiel get that sort of exposure. Nothing in this fic has a perfect solution or even an end to Castiel’s issues, but every something gets some time for Castiel to feel. As such this fic goes into some pretty dark material, including scenes of Dean and Castiel being violent with one another, reliving/discussion of the events from 9.03 (and yes, this fic addresses it as what it was, rape), and other discussions of canon events. If this is upsetting please feel free not to read, but keep in mind while this fic isn’t a happily ever after, it does end on a hopeful note.
> 
> Also, even though this is a Castiel-centric fic, I have included quite a bit of destiel. Sue me.

“Back again, huh Castiel?” 

From darkness, comes the light. Castiel feels his vessels lungs gasp air again as he lurches to face whoever calls to him. As his eyes adjust to the sudden influx of light, a familiar face fades into focus. Red hair, smirking eyes, red wings with noticeable burns and scars from where they had once been removed. 

“Anna.” Castiel hadn’t seen her, the real her, since he reported her to his superiors. For _reconditioning_. His eyes fall from hers. “Anna,” he says again, shameful. 

“Hey there, little brother, none of that. We’ve met many times since then, and you always apologize. We’ve already made our peace.” 

“Really? Well, I’m sorry I’ve forgotten.” 

“Not your fault, this place is hard to hold onto.” 

And it is. They are in a dark nothingness with only a dirt path visible, disappearing from view in the distance. He looks down and finds mortal hands. 

“And where is that exactly?” 

“Always a shrewd one. Well, my condolences, but you’re dead. Again.” 

“Dead? But then why am I still inside my vessel, and why-” 

“Don’t worry so much about the why. This is how we like to be seen, so this is how we are. And apparently, there’s more to angels then weaponry and warfare. We get a heaven too.” 

“So heaven for an angel is… a dirt path and darkness?” 

“Well, no. This is the road there. I’m sent to walk you through.” 

“Why you?” 

“Well, we’re special cases, Cas. We’re… humanish.” 

“That’s one way to say it,” Cas says gruffly, rising to his feet. “So, you’ll lead the way?” 

“As always, lieutenant.” She gives a little smile and for a second Castiel could pretend that they were still soldiers together, that he was her second in command and there was no falling or Winchesters or apocalypse. And then she starts walking, and he sees her wings again. And here they were, the humanish fallen brother and sister who betrayed each other and haven’t fought together in decades. 

They walk along the twisting path for some time, until it widens, the light turning into a shining bubble in front of them. The surroundings, Castiel notices when he looks around, are still seemingly nothingness, like a damaged photo. The thin membrane glows and inside he sees something unclear. Anna looks at him, points inward, and sinks past the glowing barrier. Castiel, not knowing what else to do, slips in after her. 

…................................................................................................................................................................................................... 

Around him is something out of a storybook. Well, no, more like a memory. His own. 

When Castiel looks out around him, space has filled in. He is in a house, one made of mud and without any modern amenities, decorated simply and rudimentarily furnished. His modern clothes look out of place when he sees his company, decked in the poor garb of the sons of Abraham when they were still slaves in Egypt. This group of Jewish people had gathered secretly for a religious ceremony. All were on their knees, hands lifted in prayer to the sky. And Castiel knows why. 

A bolt of lightning struck, seemingly generating from within the house, as the group of vessels accepted their destiny as hosts. They had been hearing voices for days, Castiel knows because he remembers his garrison speaking to their vessels right before- 

Well right before he first took form on earth. His vessel, Abi, was praying for her father, who had immense pain in his side from the demanding physical labor they were forced to endure. Castiel had asked that she pour out her family's meager grain and other foods into the street to prove her devotion, and she had willingly. As a reward, he had healed her father and restored her food in full. Now he asked her for passage into the world, in order to complete the mission issued by his superiors that day. Though looking back on it, he now can’t remember what it had been. 

Looking at the other members of his garrisons choices, he realizes they were already forming preferences on the type of vessel they inhabited. Anna was in a lovely woman named Sarah. Uriel had reluctantly hopped into a willing vessel, disdain for the mud monkeys clear in the way he stiffly held his shoulders and raised his nose. Balthazar was in the most handsome man available. And Hester, Inias, and Jophiel’s first vessels were also inhabited. The group of angels that this memory contained, Castiel noticed, was disheartening. Some he hadn’t seen in centuries, some he had wound up killing, others attempted to kill him, or both. 

Present Castiel looks at his version of Anna, trying to find details about why this memory mattered on his journey, or jog his memory about what this mission entailed. His Anna just shrugs and turns herself to focus on the action. 

“General Anael, I’m sure I have no idea what you are implying,” the past Uriel said, continuing what they had obviously been discussing before taking their vessels, “that somehow our orders are not righteous? Or that if they are, you are unwilling to carry out our Father’s will.” 

“Of course that’s not what I’m saying, Uriel, and if you were a decent soldier you wouldn’t take such a tone with your superior,” the past Anna said, raising her vessel to her full height above Uriel’s more stout container. 

“No, Ma’am. Of course not. My apologies.” 

“Castiel, what do you think? As my second in command.” Anael looked towards Castiel’s vessel, who was obviously trying to adjust herself to being on earth in human form. She bent her vessel’s knees and swung her arms while clenching and unclenching her fists. At Anael’s address, however, she stopped. 

“If this order truly did come from Heaven,” Castiel puzzled out for herself, “then it must be just. Our Father’s will is absolute, and must be done, General Anael.” 

“General? Please, brother, no need to be so formal. I want an honest opinion about these orders. I just don’t understand why we would be commanded to-” 

“Please, Anael, a few mud monkeys,” interjected Uriel, “cannot be worth all this trouble. The babes will find peace in the realm of our Father, and their parents will see not to question the will of the God of Abraham.” 

The modern Castiel felt a chill run down his spine. A whisper of something long forgotten flooded his ears. And something more recent too, something Naomi had said. About him being in Egypt for a mission, about him having to forget. 

“Those mud monkeys,” said Anael, “are our father’s chosen children. I don’t see how he-” 

“Can we just do our jobs, Anael, for once?” Questioned Balthazar. “If we leave some time to spare, we could go down to the local tavern and-” 

“Of course,” cried Hester, “Balthazar always wanting to participate in such degrading human things. Eating, drinking, pleasures of the flesh, the basest of human-” 

“I think you and Inias would know something about pleasures of the flesh, wouldn’t you-” 

“I hardly see how that’s relevant to what we’re discussing-” 

“Please, can we stop discussing eating, just the thought of that disgusting refuse these creatures call food entering this vessel’s mouth while I am within it is-” 

“Enough!” Cried Anael, showing why she was chosen to lead this garrison. “None of what you discuss holds any value on the matter at hand. Even if these Egyptian babes are not the chosen people of our Father, I cannot see why they should be punished for the sins of their parents. I cannot, will not, participate.” 

“Those are dangerous words, Anael,” said Jophiel gravely, “I wouldn’t want the higher ups hearing me say that.” 

“Well, then it is a good thing I said it, so you don’t have to try to be brave, Jophiel.” At this Anael turned toward Castiel. “Brother, what say you? Will my second in command stand by me?” 

Castiel shuffled her feet, looking down at the dirt floor. Then her eyes raised to meet her sister, and the two shared a look of understanding. Beneath their feet, the ground rumbled with an untold power of the higher dominions. Castiel reached out for her sister's hand, and the two vesseled angels nodded. A strike of lightning hit them, and their bodies collapse like puppets with their strings cut. 

Suddenly, the memory sputtered and flared out to a blank white. When present Castiel’s vision returned, he was standing in a room he remembered all too well. Naomi’s office. Past Castiel had returned to his true form, as had Anael, and they were tied with holy chains. In front of them was past Naomi, and she was running her frequency, screeching to the point that even in the present Castiel could feel the disruption in his wavelength, corrupting his intent. 

An eternity later, the memory shuffles again and turns blank. When his vision returns he sees his past self standing over a cradle, the deed already done. Her eyes were empty, and her angel blade was covered in blood. Present Castiel steps back, tripping over his own feet. Anna grabs his shoulder, steadying him. 

“Come on,” she says, sympathy in her eyes, “we’re done here.” 

….................................................................................................................................................................................................................

When they step through to the other side of the pocket memory, Castiel feels shaken. His skin feels heavy on his shoulders. 

“How many times?” He looks up to see Anna standing in front of him. “How many times have I forgotten- how many times did they go into my mind?” 

“Six.” She says, taking his hands in her softer ones. “I’m sorry, brother.” 

“Will I have to see all six? In those bubbles?” 

“No. Our next stop is the last time they changed your mind. It’s one you might actually remember some of.” 

They walk for some more amount of indiscernible time, he can’t tell how much with no earthly sun to count by. When they approach the next bubble, he pauses. 

“What will we find, when we walk through this barrier?” 

Anna says nothing, sinks through the edge with no facial expression to even give him a clue. 

With shoulders braced, Castiel slips through at a bit of a jog, and comes upon a scene he remembers well. He was sitting next to Anael at the edge of a cliff by a town they choose after they were stationed on earth. Nearly two thousand years after the birth of Christ the place had turned into Pontiac, Illinois. In their true forms the two angels, currently invisible to the human eye, gazed down on 1984 America. The sun was setting, and the two angels were watching the plentiful gifts of their father, or, one of them was. Anael was staring down at the humans, her form shimmering in excitement. 

“Aren’t they wonderful?” 

“They are our fathers greatest work of art.” 

“No, no, not because of that. I’m talking about their souls. They have such tiny lives, but their souls give them things we could never have. Food, sex, art, love… Freedom.”  
Castiel’s past self moved one of his heads to a tilt. “We have the love we feel for our Father, is that not enough?” 

“It is lovely. But wouldn’t you like to be insignificant? To live without a mission, and to get to choose your own path?” She grabbed a rock and threw it, to see it topple randomly down the side of the cliff. With a feigned sigh, her closest approximation to human shoulders slumped. 

Both Castiels shudder. Past Castiel responded, “oh, no, I need my mission. Service is what I’m made for.” 

“Well,” said Anna exasperatedly, “yes, of course. But does it need to be ALL we are, Castiel? I want those human gifts. I want my own free will.” 

“Anael,” said Castiel with trepidation, not wanting to insult an officer, “that sounds like envy. Envy is a sin. And a feeling. We are not supposed to express emotion.” 

“You know that’s bullshit, Castiel, you feel things too! We all do!” 

“No, I don’t. Watch your tongue, it might get you in trouble.” Past Castiel looked defensive, his faces forcibly blank and his wings draw inward. 

“Is that a threat?” 

“No, it’s a warning. You scare me when you talk like that, Anael, our superiors-” 

“I’m not going to have superiors soon.” And suddenly all the tension deflated from the air from a balloon. 

“You can’t mean-” 

“Of course I do. And I’m telling you, brother, because I want you to come with me.” 

“No, no. I would never fall, Anael. I am nothing like you.” 

“Yes, you are! We are the only ones who have the strength to stand up to them. Come, brother, you must remember the times, like in Egypt-” 

Castiel recoiled visibly from Anael’s many outstretched hands. “I wasn’t in Egypt.” 

“You were. They’ve lied to us Castiel! These orders are hardly coming from our Father. You must feel it too. Please, come with me. We could be free.” 

“No, no, no,” Castiel sounded pained, clearly fighting against memories. “I am not like you, I am nothing like you. I will not loose my family, my mission, for food and art. I believe in my Father.” 

There were clouds gathering above their already high up forms. Somebody in Heaven had caught word as to what was going on down on Earth. A roar sounded in the air and a much larger angel appeared in front of the two earth stationed angels. An angel superior with a lion head. 

“Anael,” said Zachariah, “you are tried with attempting to betray the Heavenly Host by abandoning your mission. Come with me for your sentence.” He reached out for Anael, but his arm snapped back when Anael pulled out her angel blade, brandishing it at her superior. 

“I don’t care if I have to kill everyone on this cliff,” Anael hissed, “I am getting my freedom.” She turned, looking at Castiel. The two shared a gaze with their many eyes, Castiel looking away first. So many moments of solidarity, broken in an instant. 

“Goodbye, Castiel.” 

And with that Anael made a precise cut to release her grace, and with an explosion, her light dispersed to somewhere untraceable. 

This is where current Castiel’s memory of the day fades into obscurity. As Anna’s consciousness was rising back to heaven to make her fall to earth, a couple in Ohio named Richard and Amy Milton were receiving some much-awaited news from their doctor. But what happened then? 

Zachariah turned to past Castiel, disdain in all of his eyes. “Why, Castiel, did Anael feel comfortable disclosing her plans to you?” 

Caught again, Castiel realizes bitterly. Of course. Past Castiel stutters out “I- I do not know, sir, perhaps-” 

“Oh for our Father’s sake, Castiel, how many times are we going to have to try and fix you?” 

“What?” Past Castiel said, and then, a flash. Pain, pain, indescribable pain. 

….......................................................................................................................................................................................................

Castiel stumbles out of this side of the bubble, gripping desperately at his splitting forehead. Anna catches him before he falls. He can’t look her in the eyes. 

“Sorry about how I acted when we met up again, but you were kind of a dick when we last saw each other, so…” 

“No,” Castiel says grimly, “I deserved it.” 

“Hey, I’m not here to be a vehicle for further angst and self-loathing. I forgave you a long time ago, brother.” He looks up and sees she actually means it. He nearly goes to grab her for a hug but something holds him back. 

“Thank you,” he says awkwardly. 

“I have a feeling you might like this next one,” Anna says as they walk together on the dark path in front of them. “Definitely Cas’s greatest hits material.” 

Castiel’s lips turn up slightly. “Oh really?” 

“Really.” They walk up to the biggest bubble yet, this one is golden and warm to the touch, and without even knowing what’s behind it, Castiel charges head first into the greatest moment of his existence. 

The setting could have been better. Slime, filth, and sin cover every corner of the dungeon he finds himself in. It’s dark and the edges of existence flare in a rage around a being so pure in a place so filthy. Past Castiel flies in with haste, having just escaped a pocket of gluttonous sinners waiting for him with coal black eyes. After forty years he had finally made it, past every demon obscuring him from his aim and into the mission he had been born to complete. 

The dungeon was a small room, lit by sparse candles. In the center, a soul stood, cutting into another wretched creature with glee. His eyes were black, but his soul was, to present Castiel, too familiar to miss. A grin splits Castiel’s face, gummy and toothy, in reaction to seeing his best friend after all the other terrible memories. Dean has found a way to surprise him yet again, even as just a memory. 

Past Castiel was a brightness too obtrusive to be ignored. Dean turned to face the light, with his shoulders braced, and hands raised. He looked relieved, in a way, to have been released from the duty of evilness. Even if it would have meant his death. 

“Dean Winchester,” said Castiel powerfully, “I am an angel of the Lord. I have come to deliver your soul for holy work.” 

A bitter laugh echoed through the cavernous pit. “Oh, really? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s a little late for God to start taking interest in my life.” With that, the rather too cavalier human flashed his eyes from black to green, and back again. 

“God has always taken interest in you. You were born to complete the task the Heavenly Host has for you.” 

“Oh, and that’s another thing,” Dean sassed, “angels? Are total bullshit. What are you really? A super powerful demon? A pagan god? Alistair in a shiny costume?” 

“The Lord shall punish the wicked and redeem the repentant. The Lord heard a Righteous Man call out from the pit and has taken mercy on his soul. I am what I say I am, and you will return to Earth to complete the task my Father has at hand.” Castiel approached the chosen soul impatiently. 

“No, I’m good. I’ve had enough with owing people, thanks.” Dean turned back around to his work, carving at the screaming soul he had on his rack. 

“Enough talk. I have fought forty years to find you. It is done.” 

If Castiel had at the time understood the power of sardonic wit and irreverence, he would have returned Dean’s disrespect with an eye roll of epic proportions. But instead, he reached out with a hand so bright it burned out the filth that clung to Dean’s soul, lifted him up, in a spiritual sense, and said with a self-important intonation, “Dean Winchester is saved.” And then, because Castiel did not yet understand courtesy, he plopped Dean right back into his body, six feet under. 

…................................................................................................................................................................................................

Castiel almost didn’t want to leave that bubble, but he finds himself on the other side nonetheless. Anna smirks in a knowing manner at his own thrilled smile. 

“Sorry, by the way. If I had known you were going to fall in love with him I would have slept with the tall one.” 

She was so blunt it brought a blush to his cheeks. “It’d be kind of pointless to deny it, right?” He says bashfully. 

“Oh, yeah, completely pointless. It get’s kind of dull in the afterlife so sometimes we turn on Winchester TV to watch our favorite brother's adventures on Earth.” 

“Favorite?” 

Anna gives a sad smile. “Yeah, favorite. I mean, Raphael’s still kind of pissed, but the rest of us have had a lot of time to think here. Think and forgive.” 

Castiel stares at the ground, not willing to accept the weight leaving his shoulders. Anna, Uriel, Rachel, Balthazar, Samandriel, and hundreds more. So many he had hurt, betrayed, or outright killed. To imagine that they had all found peace together already seemed too much, but that they had found it in their hearts to forgive him? Impossible. 

“He is handsome though, isn’t he?” Castiel deflects blatantly. 

“A total beefcake.” 

They walk together, blatantly objectifying the elder Winchester brother for some time and it feels… Good in a way Castiel has never had the chance to feel before. Open for the first time in years. It reminds him of the brief time before Charlie died when the two had connected. She had been like Anna in many ways. She was open, funny, and always ready to discuss the many woes of caring about the Winchester brothers. Admittedly, with Charlie the discussion had been more platonic, but the meat of the conversation was the same. 

The next bubble appears, and the friendly conversation dies out. The two approach it, Anna less wary than Castiel. 

“This is one of those ‘pointless to deny it’ moments,” Anna says. With that cryptic comment, she slips behind the membrane. Curious to see what that meant, Castiel walks into the representation of his past. 

Meetings in Heaven always occurred in true form in the golden age, before they had decided to interfere in the affairs of the twenty-first century. But clearly, Castiel had set the tone here, with his newly minted, vacated vessel being a symbol of divine intervention. All the angels present sat along a table of solid marble, borrowed from the Heaven of a Spartan elite from 5000 BCE. Castiel sat at one end and Raphael at the other. On Castiel’s end: Hester, Inias, Jophiel, Samandriel, Rachel, and other smaller soldiers who Castiel had personal connections with. On Raphael's side: a fleet of dominions, seraphs abound, and other such impressive soldiers. A meeting between two sides. 

Raphael had called this meeting after Castiel had flexed the power of his borrowed souls. The civil war had already been called. But like all higher ups, Raphael needed a sense of dignity and order to his wars. Just like in the war against Lucifer, when Castiel had been too novice to attend such a meeting, terms had to be called. 

Families, Castiel knows, human families, often fight. Angels almost never did, and you could see the apprehension in certain older angel’s faces. 

“How can you question,” projected Raphael, “that the apocalypse is the will of our Father? It has been foretold since the beginning of humanity, that one day it would come to the end.” 

From the other side of the table, Castiel rose from his chair. “That is what you have told us, but no one else can account for the beginning. And why should we believe what you say to be the will of our father, when the only concrete example we have of his will since he left Heaven, is that he returned me to life?” 

A murmur broke out among the angels surrounding the table, the undecided shuffling in their borrowed feet. Someone shouted “Hersey!” while another cried “Truth and justice without!” 

Raphael, not to be upfronted, rose to his feet. “How can we be certain that was our father? What if you are simply an aberration claiming to be a holy warrior?” 

A clammer, louder than the last, broke out amongst all angels. Nobody had dared to suggest that yet. 

“Only our Father has the power to return an angel to life,” said Castiel. “What other reason could my resurrection have but protect the world from the plans you desire to carry out?” At this Castiel gestured to all the angels in his presence. “I stand before you, a chosen angel of God! Returned to his Earth for holy work! Who could oppose me?” The pride, present Castiel notices, seemed to have already gotten to his head. 

“Please, brother,” said Castiel, “I have no desire to fight you. Merely leave the Earth be, and I’m sure our father can forgive your doubt.” 

“Forgive me?” Raphael said, outraged. “I am an archangel, the last of my kind on Earth, I am the will of God. Only I pass judgment, and I judge you, Castiel, to be an insolent pest on my side. You will submit, we will release my brother’s from the pit, and the Winchester’s will-” 

At the mention of the Winchesters Castiel flew to face his brother, getting only a hairsbreadth away before stopping. He grabbed at the finely tailored suit collar Raphael’s vessel wore and pulled his brother in. The power of the souls had him on a high, seemingly forgetting that he had expended the best of their might already. “Dean Winchester is under my protection. His part in this matter is over.” 

With a powerful thrust, Castiel flung Raphael backward into the wall. He turned to face the rest of the angels in his presence. “Nobody will interfere in the lives of any Winchester, from this point on, or they fly in the face of the will of our Father. I will have no more negotiating, no more forgiveness. The terms are these: you may side with me, and with the will of our Father, or you may side with Raphael, and face me yourself. But nobody will touch the Winchesters.” 

The angel directly to the left of Castiel snorted in disgust. "Please, Castiel, spare us the monologs of a used and discarded hussy. You are not his guardian, you are his whore."

Before the angel could say another word, Castiel grabbed his angel blade from the sleeve of his trench coat and stabbed him in the chest. "That's another thing. No more disrespect." Castiel knew it would be a bold move, to draw first blood at a counsel on the terms of war, but considering his considerable disadvantage in power, he needed to make up for it in tactics and surprise.

Of course, saying 'Winchesters' was a foolish move. As far as the angels currently knew, Sam was still in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. And upon the years he’s had to consider this meeting, Castiel now sees it probably wasn’t wise to reveal his hot-headed weakness in such an obvious way. And obviously, killing one of his brothers never settled right in his heart. Past Castiel disappeared, and shortly after his followers do too. A few additional angels change allegiances based on that meeting alone and flutter off after Castiel’s followers. 

A complete pissing contest, gone up in flames with hubris and sticky humanish rage. 

…............................................................................................................................................................................................... 

When Castiel finds himself on the other side of this bubble, his face is warm with shame. 

“I was such a child,” he says, looking at Anna to see her reaction. She seems vaguely amused if anything. Perhaps, Castiel thinks, because she didn’t live the war, couldn’t relate to the way it had torn Heaven apart. 

“Well,” says Anna, “that’s what you get when you can’t be a child when you're young. All that irrational stuff falls out of you later. Besides that though, I think it’s cute, the lengths you’re willing to go to protect those boys.” 

“Yes, well,” Castiel says, ignoring the last part of Anna’s statement, “I don’t think other people with repressed childhoods start civil wars that drag their families through the mud and get thousands killed. 

Anna gives a low whistle, “no, I suppose that’s a bit irregular. But you have to remember-” 

They walk into the next bubble completely on accident, and Anna falls silent due to the weight of the next memory. It has no shine, not light, it is darkness itself. A darkness Castiel is intimately familiar with. 

_Pretty little angel-_

_Oh, little, little, angel-_

_Your skinsuit is so_

_Small_

_Impossibly tiny_

_DELICIOUS_

_Nice to rip_

It was so loud. It was impossible to see in his own head. He saw his hands do disgusting things, loved the scent of blood. They pressed heavily on the edges of him, tearing him apart. He heard water and screamed. 

_Bye bye pretty boy_

_Freedom! Freedom!_

_TEAR_

_Let me out!_

_It’s time to eat again_

And he exploded. And then he was back, all his atoms shoved together in a hodgepodge of shapes, and his lungs were going in and out and there was water all around. He washed up to the sound of a woman’s voice calling. But he didn’t know he was himself. Was anyone. He was… New. 

Castiel looks around, eyes clearing and sees Anna has been standing by his side the entire time. He hadn’t even noticed with all the sound rattling around in his head. His darkest moment. And he can hardly piece together what he did besides that before he lost control was worse than after. He was still conscious when he killed Balthazar. He was all to awake when he killed so many of his siblings. Hardly in his right mind, but hardly free from blame. Anna guides him to the invisible edge of the bubble. 

“How?” Castiel intones. 

“How what?” 

“How could any of you forgive me? After what I’ve done… I don’t even forgive myself.” Castiel found himself on his knees. His cheeks were wet with tears he must have shed while reliving the memory. 

“We’re pretty powerful creatures, large, cosmic. When we win, we win grand victories and the universe can hear our song. When we fight, it can be heard a galaxy away. We all had our hand in what happened to you, and you had a hand in what became of many of us.” 

Anna had followed him to the floor. “What you did was wrong. You can’t fix it. You must move on, or drown in it.” Behind them, past Castiel is covered in a beach towel, and pulled hurriedly from the shore. 

“I fear I’ve been drowning in it ever since,” Castiel laughs bitterly. “What is the point, in telling me all this every time, making me relive all these moments and receive forgiveness, only to lose it?” 

“I couldn’t tell you, Cas, this is all at the behest of our Father.” 

Castiel again chuckles with bitter regret. “Oh, Chuck, yes how could I forget! My father treats me like a pawn, flinging me back into the messes I’ve created time after time as some sick form of torture!” Cas stands, brushing the dirt from his suit pants. “I’m done. If he wants to torture me with all this, he can face me himself.” 

“That’s not how this works, brother. We have to get to the end of the path, and the only way is through.” 

“Why must I always suffer? Why can’t I just be dead? All I want is peace. I’m just- I’m just so tired.” Castiel feels a hollowness in his chest, like all the fire and passion that had filled his life had drained out from him like a sieve. What was the point of being dragged back again and again? Why did his Father, who showed no interest in talking to him or saving humanity, play with his life and death like a fiddle? He could no longer stand the weight of each life as the mistakes got bigger, swallowing him so completely. 

Anna puts a hand gently on his shoulder, almost in empathy. “I only ask you to walk the road because I know you can, Castiel. Can you ever forgive us for what we did to you? You say it is shocking we have made our peace with you, but I find it even more shocking that you forgive us. All your hardships are burdens we forced you to bare.” 

Castiel doesn’t see what Anna means. He can’t walk this road, not anymore. Maybe years ago, when the mistakes were smaller and he felt justified, he could have walked past these life changing moments with pride. But all he feels now is the impossible weight of his sins. What could anyone have done to him that was worse than what he had done ten fold to them? 

Anna rises heavily, offering a hand to his prone form. “Just a little walk farther, brother. I promise.” 

And the two exit the memory hand in hand.

…................................................................................................................................................................................................................

The road becomes twistier, and they have to walk for longer. As if to say that the memories themselves are either getting further apart or more convoluted. While Castiel journeys on he tries to absorb more of his surroundings. The road is dirt, but his feet leave no impression upon it. There seems to be light only emanating around the two, framing them, but allowing the details of the world in front and behind their feet to fade away. Occasionally there may be a larger rock, but that is it for distinguishing features. 

The next memory towers over Castiel and his feet halt. 

“Why won’t my Father face me? Why does he make me walk through this house of mirrors?” 

Anna looks no more enlightened than Castiel himself. “I wish I could tell you. But maybe it doesn’t have to be about him, maybe this is supposed to be about you.” 

“Isn’t the entire world made around him? He decides if I live or die after this little charade. He plays games rather than confront me.” 

Anna shrugs, seeming to be at the end of a long list of platitudes on their Father’s games. When they walk through, it’s clear at once this memory is a distorted one. Two realities play, one on top of the other. The physical Castiel was in a dark, dusty hovel full of ancient and powerful things, Lucifer’s crypt. But the mental Castiel resided in Naomi’s office. He and Dean have already found the Angel tablet, they were having a discussion that wasn’t going in Naomi’s favor. 

“Kill him,” Naomi said with an air of authority. 

Castiel tried, still, to reason with Dean. They talk for a while, and in his head Castiel sees himself bargain for Dean’s life. Naomi refused again, demanding even more fiercely that Castiel ends Dean’s life. Dean, ever on the defense around Castiel, asked him how he got out of purgatory, in exchange for the tablet. 

But that exchange wouldn’t come to pass. 

“Cas, Cas,” Dean begged, but Naomi’s words were already drowning him out. Kill the threat, secure the tablet. He attacked Dean, assaulting him over pleas and cries. Over a surge of blood rushing in his ears, Castiel heard Dean. “You don’t have to do this. Cas!” 

“This isn’t right,” said the Castiel in Naomi’s office. He started pacing, while Naomi justifies the actions her hand had forced Castiel too. Hearing her justifications, Castiel snapped, “I won’t hurt Dean.” 

“Yes. You will. You are,” she said. And he was. Back in the crypt, Dean cried out against the blows, desperately attempting to block fists with the angel tablet. The Thunder of Heaven roars in the background, and Castiel watches in horror at how the scene looks from the outside. He remembers being those fists, and the feeling of lacking control that permeated his mind, and the stain of his blood mixing with Dean’s as he tore open his own knuckles on Dean’s face. It makes Castiel want to vomit, and his stomach isn’t even real. 

“What have you done to me?” the Castiel in Naomi’s office questioned, the pain of his conflicting instincts ripping his skull in two. On one hand, the voice of Heaven pounding in his ear demanded he strikes to kill, on the other all his innate desire to protect Dean stilled his hand. 

“Just relax, Castiel,” she said calmly, “let your vessel do what deep down you know is the right thing.” 

In the crypt, Castiel is stuck in his mind. “What have you done to me, Naomi?” he muttered. 

“Who’s Naomi?” 

In her office, Naomi looked affronted at Castiel’s accusatory tone. “What have I done to you? Do you have any idea what it's like out there? There's blood everywhere, and it's on your hands. After everything you did -- to us, to heaven. I fixed you, Castiel. I fixed you!” 

Castiel knows this to be true. Returning to Heaven, even now, makes him feel sick to his stomach. The higher spheres, where once the angel’s Celestial lights would spin and sing lie empty. There are certain individual heavens where you can’t walk a foot in any direction without seeing wing imprints burned into the ground. Not to mention the population of angels themselves, decimated. Now wingless. Their entire species and their kingdom are in ruins. 

In the crypt, Dean called Castiel’s name again and grabbed desperately onto his shoulder, but Castiel backhanded him, and with his preternatural force throws Dean into the wall. He falls to his knees, defeated. Dean threw a punch, and in response, Castiel hears his own fist sickeningly break his friend’s arm. Dean dropped the stone, which revealed the tablet hiding within it. 

More violence. Carnage. It’s unbearable to watch Dean, cornered like an animal, give up. 

“You want it?” he spits, “take it! But you’re gonna have to kill me first. Come on, you coward. Do it! Do it!” Castiel feels himself start to tear up, seeing the violence he was capable of. Seeing his own eyes, devoid of love for Dean. Impossibly different from himself, but still him. His hand. 

Castiel meekly begged with Naomi to spare him the horror of killing Dean. Unflinchingly, she commanded him again to finish his mission. In the crypt, Dean’s eye had swollen shut, and Castiel was mercilessly continuing the battle. Naomi demanded the tablet of him, pushing him. He was about to give in to the unbearable pressure, the synchronized wave in his head shrilly demanding in his ears, “kill, kill, kill!” when a voice broke through. 

“Cas, Cas,” Dean said, reaching for him, “I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me. Cas… It’s me. We’re family. We need you. I need you.” “You have to choose, Castiel,” Naomi said, “us or them.” 

What a foolish question. Castiel has questioned the existence of his father, questioned his role in Heaven, questioned his alliances, questioned his own righteousness, and questioned whether he was supposed to live as an angel or a human. Since he had met the Winchesters, his life had been consumed by emotional highs and doubts. But the one thing he never even thought to doubt is where his loyalties lie. 

He drops the knife. 

When he picked up the tablet, a light flashed and the connection to Naomi was removed as he was restored to factory settings. But the choice was already made. 

“Cas? Cas?” Dean flinched as Cas’s hand approaches him, he cried out “No, Cas! Cas!” And it breaks Castiel’s heart to think that even for a second Dean had really, truly believed Castiel would go through with it. Cas let his grace enter Dean, he healed the physical wounds left by his own hand. Terribly, it could not remove the broken look in Dean’s eyes. 

“I’m so sorry, Dean.” And it’s shameful, that Cas has spent far more time doing wrong by Dean then he had ever had done right. 

The important part of the memory had ended. Castiel knew that the rest of their exchange would be a clever, Winchester style repression of all the emotions that they had just shared. And because, no matter how much love he felt he could never figure out how to actually show his feelings, he and Dean would pretend not to know what had severed the connection, and then Castiel, thinking about the greater good, would flee. Leaving an emotionally vulnerable Dean, hurt and alone. Perhaps in recent years, he and Dean had grown a little past this, having brief exchanges explaining themselves to each other, trying to apologize for their latest mistake, trying to show one another how much they cared. But in many ways, their emotional development was frozen in this moment. That Castiel felt enough love it was spilling out of him, uncontainable, but that he couldn’t channel it in any way to move forward with it.

…............................................................................................................................................................................................... 

“You know Castiel,” Anna says when they reach the other side of the bubble, “I had a lot of boyfriends in my day. And girlfriends. But I don’t think I ever reached ‘overcome mind control for one another’ level of sheer romance. You really are one for the grand gesture, huh?” 

“Well,” Castiel replies, “I’m no good at the day to day. I find myself constantly being flung back and forth. So I try to really bring it on the holidays.” 

They both grin, but there’s a cloud overhead as they march onward. For a while they’re silent, just sharing space. 

“It’s just like it always was. I never have time for him, never have time to be who I want to be. I’m free, but I’m still under so much outside influence,” Castiel says. “Is it bad that sometimes I just want to say fuck the mission, and stay by his side?” 

“No, of course not. I think it’s really just a tragedy, that circumstance kept pulling you away from living the way you wanted to.” 

“And,” says Castiel, on a roll, “the truly pitiable thing is, I think even if I could just be with him, we wouldn’t know how to do that. We’ve never been together for long periods of time, and anytime we are together, all of the weight of things like that,” he gestures backward with his thumb towards the abandoned bubble, “haunt us. I don’t know if we can ever really just… Be. And now I’m dead.” 

“And now you’re dead.” 

They arrive at the next bubble, all fizzled out from the discussion they had been carrying. Castiel pauses, putting a hand on the bubble. A cool feeling, like running water. Neither of them is really in a rush to see what’s waiting on the other side. 

Anna sighs, choosing to be the first to give in, and walks past the glimmering facade into a no doubt terrifying moment from his past. Castiel has a choice in this moment. Without Anna beside him, he could choose to run into the sides of this faded world and disappear. But he could also continue to play the game, in hopes he could end the horror it inflicts. 

After Castiel walks into the scene in front of him, he immediately realizes he chose wrong. Even Anna looks ashamed at what the bubble has presented. It’s his own form, fast asleep in a bed he can still smell when he closes his eyes. He can still feel the touch of the starchy sheets on his shoulders, relieving after days in the rain and cold. He’s in the apartment of April, or the reaper who wore the face of a girl once named April. Present Castiel is just relieved they’re asleep. 

“I shouldn’t have to bare this. What is the point of showing me this? My punishment for letting the angels fall, I suppose, but still.” 

“No, Castiel. Never a punishment. Bad fortune is all this is.” 

“You mean our Father is all this is. I won’t watch this, not a second time.” Present Castiel turns his back as the reaper ties his sleeping form to a chair, and wakes him for the torture she had always been getting towards. 

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry about what I said human life was like. That I said this was a good thing.” 

At this, all the tension leaves Castiel’s body and he’s left tired. Exhausted. “I don’t even know why I agreed. She brought me in from the cold, and I suppose I wanted to see if I could ever be a normal human. But then it didn’t work out. It never works out. And there was nobody who I could even talk to because-” 

“The Winchesters were wrong, to treat it the way they did, what she did to you was,” at this Anna paused to take in Castiel’s reaction, “she lied about who she was and approached you at your most vulnerable. It was rape, Castiel.” 

“I know.” 

The past scene elevated in tension. The Winchester brothers busted in the door, and the reaper stabs Castiel in the stomach, killing him instantly. A fight breaks out, but Castiel is frozen watching his own dead body. 

“How could my memory continue past my death?” Castiel questioned. 

Anna said nothing, merely watching as Dean approached his dead form, looking heartbroken, gently touching his face. The words he exchanged with Castiel’s brother didn’t matter so much as the look on his face. And then Dean made a deal, with Gadreel, despite the fact that it might prolong Sam's pain. Castiel’s eyes jolted rapidly back and forward underneath his eyelids and opened again. 

…......................................................................................................................................................................................................

Castiel exits the bubble, his shoulders shaking with barely repressed tears. It was a lot to take in, in a moment. To finally have someone who he could talk to about the reaper and what she had done to him, to see Dean put him over Sam even just the once, and to gain the knowledge it had happened despite knowing that later that same day Dean would expel him from the bunker for Sam’s sake. He understands why the memory was this, rather than the solely violating moment of Metatron removing his grace. This made Castiel confused. 

Anna stands by his side, not deigning to touch him. “I’m sorry, that I tried to goad you into joining human life when human life was so terrible to you.” 

Castiel says nothing. 

“I’m sorry, that the Winchester brothers weren’t more respectful about what happened to you, couldn’t see that you were burying down something that was much more hurtful than you let on." 

Castiel says nothing. 

“I’m sorry, that Dean removed you from his home when you needed a place to belong- when you need him the most.” 

Castiel says nothing. 

“I know you hate yourself, brother. That you think your suffering is just and that you are owed nothing in this world. But you are wrong. Your suffering is just pointless pain, and you are owed so much more than that.” 

And with that, Castiel begins to cry. 

It’s healing, something he never felt relaxed enough to do as a human. To have all his anger and sadness over what had become of him leaves him in such a physical way, to have Anna (after a brief nod indicating his acceptance) rub his back like a human mother might, to have it all out there. He doesn’t know how long it goes on, and he expects it will not be the last time he does it. But even just the first tear falling was more relieving than years of keeping them in. When they start walking again, Castiel takes measured steps, but steps nonetheless. 

The next bubble is understated. They walk right into it, Castiel simply too tired to protest or raise a fist to the sky in defiance. The two find themselves in the back seat of a truck, stolen, leading them along a road Castiel knows well. The road to the bunker. On the radio Ramble On plays. Before Castiel had been kicked out of the bunker, Dean had given him five hundred dollars cash (stolen), several boxers (dropped in mud), and a mixtape of his favorite Led Zeppelin ‘traxx’ that he had “had on him for a while.” Which Cas had believed, until he got his angelic power back and could date when the songs had been recorded onto it back to a few months before, around the time they had been fighting over the tablets. 

Castiel had defeated Metatron but had lost Dean. Leaving Hannah in charge, he had rushed back to the playground that now served as Heaven’s entrance. He was speeding back to the bunker, tears blurring the road. He had to cry now, in the car, because when he got to the bunker he’d need to support Sam. He had to pull over for a minute to have a coughing fit, side effect of foreign grace. When he finally pulled up to the bunker, he rushed out like a freight train, only to stop, hand raised above the door. Present Castiel and Anna pile out of the truck, watching silently from a few steps behind. 

Before Castiel could knock, the door swung open, revealing a red-eyed Sam. 

“Cas, thank God you’re here.” 

“I don’t think he had anything to do with it.” 

At any other time, Sam might have released one of his chuckles that were more of a forced exhale. Instead, he leads Castiel into the bunker’s main room, walking briskly before pausing. “Cas, do you… Did Metatron-” 

“Metatron has been apprehended. And if you’re asking me if he told me, yes, I know Dean is dead.” 

It’s a dark day when someone exhales in relief at a sentence like that. Clearly, Sam had been worried about how to tell Castiel, but now at least that pressure was lifted. He returned to walking towards the hallways of rooms, talking all the while, “well, yes. Dean is dead. I mean, he should be. He got stabbed. I watched him die but then-” Sam stopped in front of the door to Dean’s room. “Well, see for yourself.” 

Sam opened the door slowly to reveal an empty room. On the pillow where Castiel could sense Dean’s head had been only hours ago laid a note “Sammy let me go.” In Dean’s handwriting. And suddenly, Castiel had seen a fate worse than Dean’s death for him and Sam. That somehow, some way, whatever Dean had become, he no longer wanted to be with them.

….....................................................................................................................................................................................

Castiel leaves the two bereaved almost brothers to their confusion. On the other side, he wonders what words of wisdom Anna will have for him. He cuts her off when her mouth opens. 

“So, what’s the next memory, huh? Going chronologically from every sickening thing that’s ever happened to me, next I suppose would be Charlie dying, or better yet, Dean trying to kill me while under the influence of the mark! I’m so excited to see what Chuck has in store. He’s really knocking it out of the proverbial park with this story, isn’t he? ‘Depressed angel wanders through worst moments’. It’s a classic." 

“No. Neither of those. You’re too familiar with death, and you hate yourself too much to mind Dean treating you poorly.” 

Castiel laughs bitterly. “I suppose that’s fair.” 

“To be honest, I was shocked when he didn’t go for the kill.”

“Oh, are you saying he showed remarkable restraint after beating my face in?” 

“No, I’m saying he was pretty far gone at that point. It did look, for a minute there, like he’d really…” 

“Yup,” says Castiel glumly, “it’s kind of sobering how often we’ve nearly killed one another.” 

“You shouldn’t let him get away with as much as you do.” 

“Really? Well, then I guess he should call me to task for, I don’t know, breaking his brother’s wall of memories, or disappearing with the angel tablet. Believe me, there comes a certain point where things are just… fucked. And it has to be that you learn how to forget it, or you leave one another. Obviously, we have no intention of abandoning each other, so we compartmentalize.” 

“Can’t you talk it over? Like adults?” 

Castiel nearly trips on nothing and genuinely bursts into laughter. 

“Oh sure, I’ll just sit Dean down and open up age-old wounds in an effort to have a frank, emotionally intelligent conversation. That’ll go over well.” 

“I see your point, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.” 

“Well, either way, I’m glad I’m spared from witnessing at least those two moments. Whatever’s coming must be pretty awful, to trump those.” 

The next bubble is pulsing, a wild energy repeating like a heartbeat. When Castiel walks through it, feels a chill run down his spine like a bolt of lightning. 

His past self was sitting in the bunkers kitchen, mindlessly watching the old television set in front of him. Considering the chronology of these memories, Cas thinks he knows which moment he’s found himself in. 

In the corner of the room, Lucifer appeared. Lucifer was wearing his face, even in his head, perhaps to remind him that he had been responsible for Jimmy’s demise. 

“Brother,” Lucifer said in his honey-tongued way, “enjoying yourself?” 

Castiel grunted noncommittally, hating the interruption to the program he was enjoying. He adjusted the set’s antennae for a clearer picture, not even sparing a glance for the devil sharing a space in his mind. 

“You know Castiel, I hate to interrupt you enjoying yourself, but I have to say, that stunt you pulled today? Not okay.” 

Finally, Castiel turned to look at his guest. “Sam is my friend, I couldn’t allow you to kill him. That wasn’t a part of our deal.” 

Lucifer looked affronted that Castiel had dared to speak back to him. “Oh please, you little flee. You’re their pet, not their friend. And our deal? Is whatever I say it is. I’m in charge here.” In a flash, Lucifer appeared right in front of Castiel. He dealt the insolent angel an uppercut to the stomach with enough supernatural force to send him backward into the wall. Lucifer paced towards where his younger brother had fallen, leaning down on his knees so his smirking face was level with Castiel. “I’m in charge here, Castiel. Don’t forget it.” 

Present Castiel watched, seeing from the outside how it must look when he’s losing a fight. His body flew around the room as Lucifer dealt blow after blow. Turning from the brutality in front of him, Castiel looked towards Anna. 

Anna looked rather nonplussed, but Castiel figured she had probably seen him getting beaten too many times at this point to be too bothered by a bit more senseless violence. 

“So, what’s the poignant lesson here?” Castiel questions. 

“I couldn’t tell you.” Anna looked vaguely remorseful about how little help she had been able to offer. 

“Is Father trying to tell me I shouldn’t have let Lucifer possess me? He’s the one who worked with Lucifer while he was wearing me. And isn’t it convenient that he left the memory of our meeting out of this stroll down memory lane? He had nothing to say to me then, why the cryptic messages now?” 

“I’m sorry I don’t have the answers.” 

“It’s not you who should be sorry.” 

…............................................................................................................................................................................ 

Castiel walks hurriedly out of the last bubble, anxious to finally be done with the game. Anna rushes out a second later, looking harried. Castiel keeps walking forward along the road that never seemed to end. 

“Are we almost finished here?” Castiel questions grumpily. 

“Almost.” 

They walk for some time more and finally pull up on a memory. This bubble looks small, almost understated in its presence. He slides through it, for the first time since this started with very little care as to what he would see behind it. What could hurt him at this point? All his worst moments were behind him. 

He walks in to see himself, appeared in a flash on the other side of the universal rift. Oh. Right. Present Castiel suddenly finds he remembers how he got where he is in the first place. Dean paced forward, but Sam grabs him. 

“Cas, Cas!” Dean called, but Castiel continued on his crazed march forward. 

Castiel sees a shadow in himself, not a possession, but an influence propelling him forward. Dean struggled against his brother, but the two inevitably fall back into the rift, disappearing to their homeworld. Castiel, meanwhile, approached Lucifer. And it's no surprise that he’s choosing to do this, even though he knew an angel blade would do nothing to permanently harm Lucifer. From finding companionship and fondness in his heart for Kelly, whom Lucifer misused and mistreated, to swearing to care for Jack, whom Lucifer would do nothing but harm to if he involved himself in the boy’s life, to his own suffering at the hands of his brother. He feels his own past rage, at the injustice of it all, refill his body, the rage that pushed him to take a meaningless blade and stab Lucifer with it. 

For a brief second, Castiel felt victory. Lucifer’s eyes flashed red, he exhaled in defeat, and for a second Castiel could pretend that would kill him. He turned, ready to leave Lucifer symbolically defeated in that alternate world. He passed through the rift, returned to his world, and for a brief second, it was going to be okay. He saw Sam and Dean on the other side, exhaled the stress he had been carrying forward into the other universe, and then a knife extended from the rift and entered his back. 

A bright light shined out, his own grace burned away. Seeing his prone form, Castiel feels time slow down around his own memory. He’d died many, many times at this point, but being an angel something feels final, irreversible about seeing his wings imprinted in the dirt he’d fallen into. He watched Lucifer say something, then saw Mary come out and (seemingly by sheer force of will and a pair of enchanted brass knuckles) beat Lucifer back into the other realm. Sam, shocked but still on the task at hand, ran back to the house where Kelly had presumably given birth and died already. Dean, however, fell defeated onto his knees beside Castiel’s body. 

Present Castiel, in sympathy, falls down beside Dean, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. Surprisingly, he feels the rough texture of Dean’s shirt, the heat his body generated. Seeing his friend's distress, Castiel wishes he could reach out to the real Dean, not the ghost here. 

“How is it,” Castiel wonders aloud, “that I can see certain things I have no memory of myself?” 

Anna chuckles, “isn’t that the real question?” 

Suddenly, the memory-Dean disappears to dust in a wind that rose from seemingly nowhere. Castiel is left alone on his knees, looking at where the wind had blown in the East. The bubble, which had shimmered around the edge of this perception, had disappeared. At the edge of where the bubble had been stood a figure in a leather jacket and a smug grin. 

“Billie,” Castiel says, rising to his feet, “I’m sorry.” 

Billie laughs aloud, taking controlled steps forward towards Castiel and Anna. “No,” she says, “no, you’re really not. It’s okay though, a Winchester ass was on the line, you did what you had to do. Just don’t waste my time with that fake apology.” Her eyes seemed amused, but her words had a bite that said just because she understood him didn’t mean she forgave him. 

“So is this the end?” Castiel questions to both the women in his presence. “Is this when I am taken to join the others of my kind?” 

“Not quite,” says Billie, “now normally the original Death would be here to explain this part to you, but since bowlegs killed him, and you killed me, I was recommissioned in time for at least a death to give you the Castiel Talk.” 

“The Castiel Talk?” 

“Cas, you must know by now,” says Anna, “that you are a special case among angels. You are given this walk to review your life, so at the end you can have full consciousness of your situation, to make your decision fair.” 

“My decision?” 

“Look,” says Billie, “don’t ask me why, but a while ago my boss and your dad sat down and had a classified conversation, for the cosmic higher ups only. And only he knows why, but Death agreed that you, and only you, get a choice each time you die, provided you die an angel.” 

“A choice of what?” 

Anna grabs both of Castiel’s hands, looking him deep in the eye. “Castiel, at the end of this review, we ask you to choose: would you like to achieve eternal peace and reunite with your family in the angelic afterlife? Or would you prefer to return to the earth?” 

For a while, Castiel is silent. Absorbing all of that notion, what it offers him, and what it means. “So you mean to tell me, all these resurrections have been my own choice?” 

“Yes,” they say together. 

Castiel is hesitant to believe that. Why would he choose to suffer and forget the forgiveness he had found among his siblings? That all this time he believed his Father to be punishing him when really he had been punishing himself. Why would he- 

“If I die, I will join the angels, in their afterlife?” 

Anna’s eyes shifts, she sees it beginning to dawn on him. “Yes.” 

“This afterlife, it is separate from human Heaven?” 

“Yes.” 

“So if I join you, I will never see Sam or Dean again.” 

“Exactly so,” says Anna. 

Castiel thinks to the shoulder he had held only moments ago, the eyes he loved that were filled with grief and despair. He thought of his other death, where Dean’s voice had broken around the sound of his name. He thought of the pit, of the man so reluctant to believe anything good could come for him. 

“Well then,” says Castiel, “that’s really no choice at all, is it?” 

Anna smiles, the calm facade she had put up while trying to neutrally present the options in front of him breaking in an instant. “I had a feeling you would say that.” 

“Alright, alright,” says Billie impatiently, “it’s all very romantic, the driving loyalty of love, the ultimate sacrifice to be together, yadda yadda yadda. It’s the same song and dance as all the other fifty times we’ve done this. Castiel, just to be clear, you will return to life, knowing of the two choices at hand?” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright, but there’s something else you should consider. Your death this time specifically targeted your grace. The angelic bits got all burnt up, there’s only your consciousness left. I can bring you back, but only as a human.” 

This causes Castiel some pause, thinking about all that it would mean, to live as a human again. To die as one. 

“When I die, as a human, will I have a human afterlife?” 

“You’re smarter than your suicidally stupid actions would have you appear. Yup, if you go back this time you’ll be one hundred percent human, you’ll grow a soul, you’ll die, you’ll get your own heaven. You’ll never be allowed back here. And when you die as a human, it’s permanent.” Billie smirked, seemingly thrilled at the prospect that Castiel would die die one day. 

Castiel looks at Anna, worriedly. “Why didn’t you get a human afterlife?” 

“Semantics,” says Anna, “I died while I was angelic. Luckily, you’ll have no grace to return to, you get the full humanity experience.” She smiles, but sadness lingers in her eyes. “You should do it Castiel, go out there and be wonderful, and messy, and in love.” 

“That was always your dream. it feels wrong, somehow, that I end up human and you end up an angel.” 

“You’re right. That was my dream. You never set out to be human, that was always me. I wanted to be free and careless. All you ever wanted was love. I was always aiming for my own exploration, my own experience. Art, food, romance. And all that is great, but what I learned while I was there, and what I realized when I got here is that love, real selfless love, that’s what makes you human. And you’ve always had that. I learned it, from my mom, from my friends, from my human life. But you’re the most human an angel has ever been, Cas.” 

Again, tears begin to well up in Castiel’s eyes. He reaches out, grabbing Anna in a fierce hug. One that seems centuries overdue. “I don’t want to forget this,” he says, still holding on to her. 

“I know,” she says, “but you’re still going to choose to go back. That’s what I love about you, Castiel. We’ve done this so many times, and every time, you choose to go back.” 

“I’m not done there yet. There are people who need me. And I need them.” 

“So go. And if you remember, give the pretty one a kiss from me.” 

With that decision, the lights come on. The three figures stand in a field in full bloom. Wonderful life teems all around them, and in the distance, voices can be heard. Well, felt. The vibrations of his sibling’s wavelengths fill his bones, each one adding a layer of feeling until the dissonance abates, and a harmony is achieved. Old Enochian for a sentiment without translation. Belonging. Wholeness. To Castiel, it feels a lot like forgiveness. 

He lets go of his sister and turns to face Billie. She’s in a reaper's true form. 

“I’m ready now.” 

With one final glance at Anna, he accepts Billie, who passes through him like a breath of fresh air, suspending his consciousness above the eternal field of the afterlife of the angels. He spins and suddenly he has returned to Earth. The scene has changed, Dean is in a chair by the bedside where lies the vessel Castiel has come to acknowledge as his own body, with a whiskey glass in hand. They seem to be somewhere shady, a motel with a despairing glam rock theme. Sam is having a tense phone conversation with someone. They both look like they haven’t slept, their eyes are red with tears, and the room has a hollowness to it. Basically, they look like they need a miracle. Hopefully, one newly human Castiel will do. 

“Oh, and Castiel,” Cas hears Billie echo around him, “one more thing. A human brain is a notoriously tricky thing to rewire. Very difficult. Maybe my boss could have done it, but unfortunately, all I can do is try my best. You might have some memory left of what you experienced while you were dead. All I’m saying is, nobody can say for sure.” She doesn’t currently have a face, but if she did Castiel suspects she might be smiling. 

And before he can respond, he feels himself plunge down into Earth, feels his mind reconnect with his body, feels his heart jump start into action. He jolts up in bed and takes his last first breath. 

“Hello, Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This fic was very therapeutic to write, so feel free to tell me how you feel about it, or just rant about canon in the comments. Also, if I didn’t address something as thoroughly as you might have liked, I just want to say again: this is not a fix-it fic, I am by no means implying Castiel’s issues have healed by the time this is over, merely that a lot of them have been discussed in a way that’s new for him.


End file.
